


Acquainted

by purplebass



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplebass/pseuds/purplebass
Summary: Alastair's POV from the chapter Days Past: Paris 1902.
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs & Thomas Lightwood, Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50
Collections: Thomastair





	Acquainted

Alastair was sure he liked Paris at that time of the year. The air was not humid, the wind was not too chilly, even though it was cold. The streets were full of people at all times of the day, but he thought he could bear it if he would be with someone. He came to Paris expecting to find peace to be with _him_ , only to find that he didn’t want to be seen in public in his company. 

Alastair had managed a grin when he told him that it was better they only saw each other behind closed doors, at _his_ hotel. He had pretended that it was alright, when it was not. After all, he was just asking for a bit of his time. He wouldn’t have done anything to harm his image outside. He just wanted to catch up and to visit places together like tourists, which he had never truly been, but Alastair ended up going to the famous _Librairie Galignani_ alone, and cold.

He had found solace in a book, and was focused on the reading and someone caught his attention at the door, when a tall guy entered the waste space full of books. He squinted at the newcomer, astonished and surprised, unable to tell himself if he was under the effect of the tale he was reading and was mistaking fiction for reality - it was a Gothic novel, after all - or if the person who had just crossed the threshold of _Galignani_ was who he thought he was.

Alastair hadn’t meant to stare longer than it was acceptable, but for some reason, he couldn’t tear his eyes off the tall guy. Calling him guy was a euphemism. He was a guy indeed, but despite being the same age as him, Thomas Lightwood looked more like a man than a teenager. Somehow, he felt threatened. Not because of his height, but for the aura Thomas carried with him once he entered the library. If Thomas had been a painting, he would have been one of the water lilies series by Monet. Monet didn’t just paint one rendition of water lilies, because he wanted to study the flowers under different lights and circumstances. It was weird to think about Thomas like a flower, but in a way, he had been. When he first met him at the Academy, he hadn’t bloomed yet, but now…

Alastair put the book he was reading back on the shelf when he saw Thomas make eye contact with him and waved. Thomas Lightwood _waved_ at him. He hoped that he didn’t register the confusion and the shock that passed over him in the matter of seconds. Alastair was usually very good at hiding his emotions and feigning diffidence and interest. But the shock of seeing Thomas again, taller and - he didn’t know how to put it, _fascinating? Attracting?_ \- was making him panic. He didn’t know how to interpret it, since the only person who had managed to do that had been him. But he had also managed to make him cry, so Alastair tried to calm down before Thomas reached him and would acknowledge these emotions. At least, seeing someone he knew made him feel less alone. He would soon discover if he would also feel welcome by this old stranger.

Alastair, caught off guard by Thomas’ arrival, said the first thing that came to his mind. The first thing he had thought barely a few minutes earlier. He commented on his height, but what could he have said? Ah, he also added that this was probably Thomas’ revenge for how he treated him during their years at the Academy. Thomas didn’t seem too convinced about his greeting either, and for a moment, he thought that he would turn and leave him.

 _You don’t need him_ , Alastair told himself, prepared for rejection. _Even if he decides to go, you have your book. And soon, you will meet…_ “What are you doing in Paris?” Thomas asked instead, and Alastair’s attention was back on him.

“What are you doing in Paris?” he countered, and killed a sigh. It sounded more like an interrogation than an acquaintance asking a question. _Acquaintances_? _Were they_? In a way, they were. They had known each other for a while, before Thomas decided to spend more time with his friends. Alastair remembered he had been hurt a bit, but what could he expect?

He tried to erase those memories from his mind, and went on. He could still salvage this. He could still try. “Do you want to come to the Louvre?”

Alastair’s heart pounded faster in his chest, but he had no idea why. Was he anxiously waiting for Thomas’ answer? He tried to school his features not to let him know how hard it had been for him to ask such an ordinary question. A simple question which could have only two outcomes. He could say yes or he could say no.

Thomas’ answer eventually came. It was positive. He had agreed. Alastair tried not to show any emotion, but the truth was that he felt appeased. The ice had been broken, and this afternoon was getting more interesting than he predicted.

So, they went to the museum. Alastair had been to Paris several times, and this wasn’t the first time he had been to the Louvre. He never told Thomas that he had already seen each piece more than once, and that asking him to come was just an excuse to spend more time with him. He couldn’t wait to see the new additions, though, and thought odd that his companion for this adventure would be Thomas instead of the other person he had pictured to be with him that day. And he didn’t mind, because Thomas was a delightful presence to be with.

Alastair had never realized how smart and kind he was. At some point, he went even as far as to tell him some things he thought about some of the paintings exhibited. And even asked for his opinion, which made Alastair feel strange, because no one had gone so far safe for his sister Cordelia. He had never felt like this in the presence of another man, and this feeling unsettled him and put a smile on his face at the same time. He had felt out of place often, but here, in Paris with Thomas, everything seemed right. Perhaps because it was Paris. Perhaps not. He would not know until later, when he would have to part with him.

Surprisingly, a few hours later after dining together, they didn’t run out of things to say. Thomas talked, and Alastair listened. And when it was Alastair’s turn to say things about his travels in different places, Thomas wasn’t bored to listen to him. If any, he was curious. Nobody had ever been curious about Alastair’s life. On the other hand, the majority of people he was forced to interact with at the Academy seemed to mock the way his family had lived until then. Alastair was mad at his father Elias for making him live such a life, but on the other side, at least these frequent relocations gave him the chance to see the world. And so far, he had never met someone like Thomas Lightwood.

Was he going to stay in his world, or was he going to be a mirage like everyone else?

Alastair didn’t want to think about it, so he kept telling his stories to Thomas, until they were out of time. Thomas had just told him that he wanted to get a tattoo, and he had asked where. It was an innocent question, something a friend would ask. Even not a friend. Someone who was engaged in the conversation, and Alastair certainly was.

“Where on your arm?” he wondered, and Thomas showed him without adding more. And in that moment, Alastair lost control of his mind and reached for the spot on Thomas’ skin. Something he would have never thought of doing years ago, a few hours ago. But he did. It was an instinctual gesture, one that you do naturally, casually. Something intimate?

Alastair would later admit to himself that he sought human touch in that moment. Not just human. He wanted to touch Thomas’ skin, to see if he was as delicate as he seemed to be on the outside. He realized he had been too forward, maybe, and slowly retreating his hand. If Thomas had been bothered, he didn’t show it.

“I think it’s late,” he said before silence would settle and destroy whatever they had created until then. “Don’t you think?”

Thomas just nodded, and Alastair asked for the bill. He decided that he would pay. Not only because he had had a good time, but also because it was a way to show Thomas that whatever had happened during the Academy, it was in the past. He felt like Thomas also knew, otherwise, he wouldn’t have accepted his invite earlier that day, would he? Thomas was not a liar. He would never be in the company of someone he detested, let alone enjoy himself.

The evening had come to an end, and Alastair had forgotten about the _other_ person. It was partly thanks to Thomas, and he wished the day would be longer. He wanted to talk more, he…

“Look, this may sound out of place coming from me, but,” Alastair began, trying to be as honest as possible. He only had this chance. “I would like to show you something else, if you want?” He didn’t sound too hopeful, lest he would reject him this time. He had already agreed once, he wasn’t sure he would still have luck by his side. Luck was never by his side, yet, Thomas said yes.

“Why not,” Thomas replied, which made Alastair feel lighter.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

And tomorrow came. Alastair took Thomas to one of his favorite places. The movie theatre, which was sure would surprise him. And it did. Thomas looked like a child as he watched Le voyage dans la lune. Even this time, Alastair didn’t tell him he had already been there, looking for a distraction while the person he was waiting for couldn't be with him. Again. He had found solace in the newness of the movie. And now, after spending another day with Thomas, Alastair reveled at the novelty of how easy and simple was to be with him.

But like all good things, even their time came to an end. It must. Paris felt like an alternate reality. He wondered if this feeling would last outside of it, or if Paris’ spell would be broken once they would see each other again in London. He hoped that the former would happen.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Alastair confessed. “ _But_ there is London,” he added, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Thomas’ expression changed for a moment. It was quick, but it was there. Surprise. But also, glee. He seemed content. “Yes, I understand,” he replied. “I mean, yes, we will see each other in London, I guess.”

Alastair managed a grin, which was unusual to him. “Well, then,” he said, but Thomas stopped him. He extended his hand, and Alastair didn’t know what to do. It would have been awkward not to have shook his hand, so he did.

Thomas’ hand was cold due to the temperature. If this had been another occasion, and Thomas another person, he would have probably held his hand between his to warm them up. But they didn’t have this relationship. They weren’t friends either. Alastair lingered for a moment and then let his hand go. Thomas also seemed to feel the loss, and Alastair was confused by the way he had behaved around him those two days. He had seemed caring. He had been caring. And he had been honest, as honest as he could have been, even if he didn’t tell Thomas everything. And he wouldn’t go as far as to analyze why, when their skin touched, he was stunned.

“Well, goodbye Carstairs,” Thomas finally said, breaking the moment.

“Goodbye, Lightwood. Try not to get any taller. You’re starting to be off-putting in the other direction.”

Alastair turned without adding more, deciding to sever this conversation before he wouldn’t be able to leave anymore and he would stay one more day. He bit his lip. Damn his tongue. Damn his temper. But it was too late. He was going, and Thomas was staying. He would mull about what had happened between them later, when he would wish to find him at an event and he wouldn’t be there. For now, his only friend would be this sense of loss in his heart, because he knew he would be alone that night. Perhaps less alone than he did yesterday, but lonely no less. He wished that at least he had found a new friend, but he would only know in London.


End file.
